The silent witness

The study was filled with the coppery tang of blood and the lingering smell of cigar smoke and stale whisky. As she stood at the doorway, Detective Vicky Lawson looked around the darkened room. The once-dominant Judge Joseph Langford was now dead, slumped on the Persian carpeting. He gazed blankly at the ceiling with his eyes wide open in disbelief. One card, the Queen of Spades, hung on his breast like a ghostly signature. Standing next to her with his fists on his hips was Vicky's partner, Detective Jones. With a mumble, "Hell of a way to go," "Looks like an execution." Vicky hunkered down next to the deceased so as not to disturb the sight. The incision on the judge's throat was exact and the slit was clean. There was only cold, deliberate murder—no overturned furniture, no traces of struggle. She said, "Who found him?" without raising her gaze. Jones indicated the entrance. "Clean housekeeper. When she arrived for her morning shift, she discovered the body and reported it. She's a shaken woman. I dispatched an officer and her outside. Vicky brushed her dark hair back and sighed. The Langford home was a masterwork of architecture, with mahogany panelling, towering ceilings, and a library full of likely unread books. Now reduced to a crime scene, it was a life of luxury and power. As she put it, "Where’s the family?" Jones consulted his notebook. It is said that Laura Langford, the wife, went to see her sister last night. John Langford, the son, had been distant from the elderly man for years. Now, we're pursuing him." Vicky cast a scowl. "He wanted to be killed. Was it a personal or professional matter? To the Queen of Spades Jones gestured. "And what the hell is with the card?" Vicky took a close look. It is intentional. An announcement. As the forensic technicians were already on the scene, she looked to them. Examine anything—prints, fibres, etc. I'm curious as to whether this card was placed before to or following death. She noticed something as she stood up: a slight smudge on the desk. Blood. However, not from the magistrate. Jones caught her eye. "I need to see the security footage." Jones gave a sigh. Yes, regarding that. The home is equipped with cameras, but—" "Let me guess," Vicky cut it short. "They were conveniently offline?" "It appears that way. Someone was well aware of what they were doing, but we'll have tech investigate." Vicky gave a quick exhale. This wasn't just an infraction gone wrong. This was a declaration. As she approached the window, her eyes shifted to the expansive garden beyond. Then she caught sight of her. A tiny figure was partially obscured by the shadows as it stood close to the bushes. A girl, perhaps ten years old, with wide, unblinking eyes was gazing at the house. "Who’s that?" "What?" Vicky asked. Jones kept his eyes on her. "Oh no. Lucy is that. niece of the housekeeper. She spent last night staying over. Vicky felt her heart race. "Was she here when it happened?" Jones thought for a moment. Possibly. But she's... unique. She's silent. Vicky kept her eyes fixed on the girl. She was shivering from something in her quietness. She glanced at Jones. Lucy, please get me everything. If the judge was killed, she was in this house. Glancing back out the window, she met the child's gaze. "Then she’s our only witness."